Journal Entry – March 17, 2017

My body is finally forcing me to process all the mess that has been my life for the last couple months now. No amount of distraction can prevent it any longer, and I am drowning.

I have reached a depth of depression that I have not felt in years. I have only felt like this two other times in my life, and I honestly don’t know how I made it through.

The first was back in 2009. I was 16, and at the time, I felt like my life was worthless. I couldn’t sleep at all, and though my weight never fluctuated, I would cycle between eating absolutely nothing and eating everything in sight. I had no motivation to do any homework, but at least I maintained perfect scores on my tests, otherwise my parents might have cared. I would live off my adrenaline for weeks until my body physically couldn’t function anymore. Then I’d crash for 24 hours. I told a “friend” how I was feeling, and she told me to try cutting because it worked for her. I sat in the shower that night with a razor blade against my wrist, but I just couldn’t get up the courage. Heathen watched from the corner as I cried, then slowly stepped forward to take the blade from me. Then he introduced me to D/s. He knew exactly how to play off my emotions to get me to follow his orders, and I never questioned him. But within a week, I was back to that brink. When I knew I was alone, I went to the medicine cabinet in our kitchen and grabbed all of the pain medications my dad never finished after his back surgery, and I swallowed every single one. There were approximately fifty pills. Then I laid down and slept. I was trapped in a night terror from Friday night at 7 pm until Sunday morning at 6 am. The pills never even made me sick, and no one even noticed they were gone. I sat up in the rocking chair by our living room window until time to get ready for church, and at church, I told that same “friend” what I had done. She told me that I was lying, and that I just wanted attention. Then she told her parents who told my parents, and when my parents asked me about it, it was all a joke. Like “So I heard the craziest thing! C told her mom and dad that you tried to overdose on pills to commit suicide!” and I confessed. I told them the truth, and they said I was lying because I never even got sick. I don’t remember how or when I started feeling a little better. I was still depressed just not as much.

In 2011, I met HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. Everything started out sweet, but when it turned sour, that’s when I fell into that bottomless pit of depression again. I was struggling to figure out what I wanted to accomplish in my life. My teachers accused me of being anorexic or bolimic, but I wasn’t either. I was back in that cycle of not eating then eating everything. My estrogen had really hit me, and I had my first period, and that’s when my emotions flew out of control. I was always crying. I burst into tears in the middle of classes for no reason, and on more than one occasion, had to run to the bathroom to pull myself together. The insomnia hit me again, but not as hard. I slept about once every two weeks, but that was only because I cried myself to sleep because I was crying so hard that I literally exhausted myself. I fell behind on homework, but maintained good grades. I had no motivation. I spent all my free time in my safe place. I considered suicide, but I knew that if I failed again, HE would make things so much worse. It wasn’t until HE left me that I was able to get my life back under control.

I hope I’ll survive this time. My only consolation is that I have support this time.